Just Do It.
by Holly Vanderhaar, Nonfiction Editor
If I go a week without questioning my decision to become a writer, I know something must be wrong. I always operated under the assumption that if you were meant to do something, that something would flow easily and be a joy—at least most of the time—to undertake. Not that there aren’t moments when the writing is going well, when I feel I’m (dare I use a cliché?) “in the zone� and I experience something that must be akin to a runner’s high. (Or at least what I imagine a runner’s high must feel like, since I generally try to avoid that particular activity.) But that “writer’s high� comes infrequently, and most of the time I have to bribe or trick myself into confronting that blank white page.
Many years ago I considered getting a PhD in psychology, and for a while I was a research assistant in a behavior lab, working with rats and pigeons. You know, the stereotypical “peck this key and get some food� gig. Anyone familiar with operant conditioning can tell you that if you are trying to strengthen a particular behavior like pecking a key—or, in our case, twenty-six of them, give or take—the most effective technique is that of intermittent reinforcement. What this means, essentially, is that the animal gets a reward, but only some of the time. Slot machines are a prime example; keep pulling that lever and eventually, your reward will come. Don’t give up! It could be the very next time. Or the next. Or the next. Vegas is just one big rat and pigeon colony, in more ways than one.
I give my students tips to overcome writer’s block. By now, we’re all familiar with them. Take a walk, listen to music, meditate. Free-write. Use a prompt. But I end my spiel with the home truth that sometimes you just have to push through it. Sometimes the techniques won’t work. In the real world, we face deadlines and we don’t always have the luxury of waiting for the gentle throat-clearing and whispered suggestion from the Muse. I would estimate that my own work is about ten percent inspiration and ninety percent perspiration (seasoned liberally with profanity). I used to think that meant I wasn’t meant to be a writer, that I didn’t enjoy it enough. But I suppose that’s how vocations work. For whatever reason, and by whatever force, you are called to do something. The rewards may be few and far between, but they will come. Just keep pecking those keys.